


Welcome to Hell, Eliot Spencer.

by EducationalAdmiral



Series: Hell Hath Visiting Hours [2]
Category: Leverage
Genre: Afterlife, Alternate Universe - Afterlife, Angels, Angst, Eliot Spencer Whump, Going to Hell, Heaven & Hell, Hurt/Comfort, Other, Post-Canon, Supernatural Elements, Whump, this took me a long time to update didnt it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-20
Updated: 2017-11-20
Packaged: 2019-02-04 19:27:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12777867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EducationalAdmiral/pseuds/EducationalAdmiral
Summary: “You look awful..” Parker mumbled, bluntly, sadly. She reached out, taking his other hand in hers and rubbing her thumb over his rust stained knuckles. “What’d they do to you?”“Don’t ask me that, please,” Eliot replied softly, his hand tensing underneath hers. She moved her hand away.///Or, as Eliot spends more and more time in hell, his friends begin to set their plan in motion.





	Welcome to Hell, Eliot Spencer.

**Author's Note:**

> This work contains descriptions of torture, violence, blood and other possibly upsetting content. Read with caution!

Eliot didn’t know how to feel as they dragged him from the visiting room into a separate cell, one he recognized as a punishment chamber. He didn’t know how to feel as bullets whizzed across the room and into his torso, he didn’t react when the room combusted into flames and his skin peeled from muscle and muscle from bone. He didn’t say anything- he was numb- he was too caught up in what had just happened. The angels- beings- whatever, made it clear that he was not being rewarded, that the visiting hours were for his friends and for his own enjoyment of them he’d be punished greatly. He didn’t have anything to say about that, either.

Eliot only had a bitter feeling of anger as he was dragged down the line, back to his placement by Chapman and Moreau, his open wounds leaving a trail of blood behind him. He didn’t register the pain- he was so caught up in his own head. In seeing Nate and Sophie, Hardison and Parker for the first time in what felt like an eternity- and maybe it had been. He hadn’t made an effort to keep track of the days as they grew into weeks, he’d learned in his time held captive before as a prisoner of war that it didn’t do anything but kill whatever hope he still had.

He hadn’t had any hope here, in hell. He knew where he was, and he knew _what_ he was. He was in hell because he was a murderer. He had accepted that this would be his fate a long, long time ago. But then they’d taken him in the room and showed him those people- the only  family he’d had left when he died. Some dead, rotten feeling of hope that he knew he shouldn’t hold onto but he’d try. Desperately. Maybe the beings were happy to restore that feeling- he’d grown too apathetic to their torture. They had to give him something to take away. He supposed that it didn’t matter one way or another- it was out of his hands now.

They dragged him down the hall and past the line, hundreds of thousands of men and women so like Eliot- so _unlike_ Eliot- all of them bloodied and suffering and evil. Some of them had to deserve it. They writhed in their chains and screamed at the angels, spat at them. Eliot’s legs scraped against the ground and he had to keep himself from groaning- his open and demolished flesh screaming out in pain. He must’ve blacked out at some point because, next thing he knew, his hands were back above his hand and his toes where ghosting over the floor. He was back in his spot in the lineup- Moreau and Chapman by his sides. He heard the smile in Moreau’s voice when he spoke.

“You were gone quite a while, Spencer. We missed you.”

Eliot grimaced and didn’t dignify him with a response. He tried not to look at Moreau or Chapman- he already knew from a glance that they had been taken to their own independent torture sessions. Blood was dripping from the hole where Moreau used to have teeth, pouring over crack lips, and onto his lacerated chest. Chapman didn’t look any better- parts of his bones were poking from his skin and his face was painted purple with bruises. Looking at them, he knew, would give them some sick feeling of gratification. He hated them, he wouldn’t give them that.

Then he remembered what Parker had said- that she’d killed Moreau. And then, he remembered what Moreau had whispered in his ear before he had been dragged down to the this literal hell hole.

_“After you’re taken care of, Spencer, I’ll hunt down that pretty blonde of yours and skin her alive. That chef, too. And you’ll be powerless to stop it.”_

His blood boiled and he turned and looked at Moreau, directly in the eyes.

“You’re a bastard,” He spat.

“And why do you say that?” Moreau said, his face not betraying the surprise when Eliot spoke to him.

“Parker took care of you. She’s the reason you’re dead. She had to kill you.”

“If it makes you feel any better, she didn’t pull the trigger. _You and I, however..”_

Eliot could hear the smirk in Moreau’s voice. He tried to run at Moreau, causing his chains to pull taut and tighten on his limbs, not to mention the jostling of his wounds.

“Aw, you wish it were other way around, do you? You wish you had placed the bullet in me? You threw me in prison, Spencer, you killed my right hand man. You _knew_ I’d break out, you _knew_ I’d come after you. You _wanted_ it. I was the one thing from your past you couldn’t forget- couldn’t pretend you were _better_ than. You didn’t care that I’d hunt down your friends- you did it for you’re own satisfaction. You’re the same sick man you were when I found you- _you’re just as bad as me, we both know this.”_

Eliot torn at his chains again, again they pulled taut and bit further into his wrists.

“If you were a better man you couldn’t have shot me so many times without even blinking,” Chapman stated plainly. “Stop pretending, Spencer. You’re in hell, just like us.”

Eliot clenched his jaw, and once again fell silent.

///

“Nate, you know I love you, yeah?”

“Of course, Sophie.”

“Then I can be honest with you?”

“Of course.”

“This is the craziest, stupidest idea you’ve ever had.”

He groaned, pushing away the notebook he had resting in front of him with a huff and reached for his mug of now cold coffee, wiping his eyes and scruffy face with his other hand.

“Well, you don’t have a better idea, do you?”

“No, but I think we should think this through more before doing something quite this rash, Nate. We can’t just march down there and demand he be freed- franky, we’re already pushing it with the visiting hours. We should give it time.”

“Eliot doesn’t have time, Sophie. Time moves slower down there, and he’s suffering. Unjustly, might I add,” Nate paused to take a drink of his coffee, grimacing at the coldness of it. “That’s always been our MO. We watch out for the little guy, don’t we?”

“We’ve never been against _angels_ , Nate. We can’t pretend this is the same as it was before.”

“It is, though, isn’t it? They aren’t omniscient. If they were, they’d know what we’re planning here, right now, and they’d stop it. They’re overpowered people who think they’ve got everyone under their thumb. It _is_ the same.”

“You won’t wait on this, will you?”

“Of course not.”

“Why not?”

“Eliot.. He almost died a hundred times over protecting us, you realize that, right? He knew exactly what he was and he didn’t try to get us to forgive him for it. He broke his morals for us in the warehouse. I know we’re part of the reason he’s down there.”

“The warehouse?”

“Shit- nevermind-”

“You can’t do that Nate. Explain.”

There was a noise- a somewhat happier than the night before Parker and Hardison coming into the room, both well rested from the first perfect night of sleep together since Hardison’s death. Eliot was still a vital, missing piece and they still ached for him, but two of three was better than one.

Hardison froze, his smile disappear and his brows furrowing. Parker sensed his change and glanced over to Sophie and Nate, her face falling just as Hardison’s had.

“What’s with you two? You could cut the tension in here with a knife,” Hardison said.

“Nate is being cryptic, as always.”

“I promised him I wouldn’t tell. I can’t.”

“Eliot?” Parker perked up at mention of him, crossing the room to perch herself on the table Nate was sitting at.

“What about Eliot?” Hardison asked, following Parker and pulling out a chair at the table. Nate groaned again and took another sip of his coffee.

“What warehouse, Nate?” Sophie asked again, her voice insistent.

Nate stared into his coffee cup, then set it back on the table and folded his hands together.

“Look,” he began. “When we were chasing Moreau, before he fled to San Lorenzo and I had just found the Italian.. Moreau had planned it and had a trap set up- Eliot called it a ‘kill box.’ Too many armed men and too much space to cover for us to escape. Eliot provided a distraction while me and the Italian ran and.. And he wound up killing all those men in there. He didn’t have a choice.”

There was a brief silence as the three took in the information. Hardison was the first to break it.

“How many men?”

“Twenty- give or take.”

The silence came back- heavier and thicker this time. No one said a word.

“I would’ve died in there had he not done it.”

No one seemed settled by that.

///

A week passed for Nate, Sophie, Parker and Hardison, and their plan had far too many holes to start it in motion.

A month passed for Eliot, and he began to wonder if he’d imagined seeing his friends that one day that felt ages away.

The beings showed up in Nate’s apartment in heaven bright and early. They waltzed in, cocky and arrogant, and brought the heaven sent Leverage team members down to Hell. Nate was boiling, and he had to keep himself from being violent.

Hardison held Parker’s hand. Parker, who had her eyes scrunched closed and put full faith in him to lead her while she mapped hell in her mind. The corridor was long, and they were walking past so many men and women with bound wrists and ankles, all of them broken and bloody. Parker didn’t want to see them- she wanted to see Eliot- she wanted to _free_ Eliot. She wasn’t here for anyone else.

Maybe after they freed Eliot they would come down here for the others- the ones that deserved better. But first, Eliot.

They came back to the same room they had been in a week- _a month-_ earlier. Just as before, the walls were gray with a flat, metal table and uncomfortable looking chairs. They took their seats and Parker opened her eyes, etching her map as well as she could in her mind. She would retrace the steps on the way out and pray for it to be perfect.

The beings disappeared for a few minutes and Nate clasped his hands on the table, his heart thudding in his chest loudly. Running cons had never stressed him out- setting up cons had never stressed him out- but now? He was planning to fight the _divine_. He was preparing to fight a war with beings he didn’t know, could wiggle his fingers into the heads of. This was a dangerous game he was playing, and he was obligated to play it. His friend deserved it.

The door opened, and the angels dragged Eliot in. Nate felt for a moment like he would throw up. He didn't know what of it was the worst.

Eliot’s hair was matted and bloody, his face purple and his skin riddled with holes. The look on his face was one of shock- deep bags hanging under his eyes and mouth halfway open. He seemed limp in the angel's arms, his limbs too heavy for him to move himself. Nate hated it.

The last time they had visited Eliot he had looked rough, but he still looked alive- or, at least alive in the same sense that Nate was alive. Now, though, he looked like a corpse. His skin was pale and he looked horrendous and lifeless- green and lilac and so far away from any normal tone that it scared Parker.

They threw Eliot into the chair roughly and then announced that they had an hour. Then, after shackling his wrists tighter than need be, they disappeared, slamming the door roughly behind them.

And Eliot shoulders were tense as he stared at the door.

“Eliot-”

Sophie could only say a single word before Eliot’s head whipped to face them. He looked so distraught that it was nauseating.

“I-I didn’t-” He stuttered, his eyes still wide. “I didn’t think I’d see you guys again- I’m sorry-”

“Eliot, shh. It’s okay.” Sophie placed her hand on the table, carefully reaching out for Eliot’s hand and wrapping it in her own. “We’re here now, you’ll be fine.”

Eliot made a sound- something like a scoff- but none of them registered it, too focused on his bloody physical state.

“You look awful..” Parker mumbled, bluntly, sadly. She reached out, taking his other hand in hers and rubbing her thumb over his rust stained knuckles. “What’d they do to you?”

“Don’t ask me that, please,” he replied softly, his hand tensing underneath hers. She moved her hand away.

“We’re gonna save you from this,” Hardison whispered, glancing to the door and praying he couldn’t be heard. “We’re gonna break you out.”

“What?”

“We’re working on a plan to get you out of here. You don’t deserve to be down here.”

“What the hell do you know about what I’ve done?”

“W-what?”

“Just… just don’t waste your time, alright?” Eliot tried to cross his arms but the chain on his wrists didn’t allow him that much free movement. “You’re gonna get hurt. It… it ain’t worth the risk.”

“Eliot, have you seen yourself? You look horrid. We all know that, if this were the real world and someone else were in your position, we’d fight for them. Why can’t we for you?” Sophie reached for his hand again, but he pulled it away.

“I know what I’ve done and.. clearly, you all don’t if you don’t think I’m getting what I deserve. I… I came to terms with being on a road to hell a long time ago. I tried to good on my way down, but I never expected it to save me. I don’t what you all risk yourselves for something that can’t be changed. It ain’t worth changing, anyway.”

“That isn’t true-”

“Yes, it is! Stop wasting your time.”

“Eliot, we’ve been gifted an infinity. We aren’t gonna spend it without you.”

“Maybe you should.”

“Eliot-”

For the first time in a long, long time Eliot gave them one of his sharp glares in a completely serious manner. It wasn’t a playful glare at Parker’s eccentricities or Hardison's flirting- it was angry and made Sophie squirm.

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

///

“Well, that didn’t go as planned.”

Nate announced it as if everyone didn’t know as they walked back into his apartment- or what _seemed_ to his apartment in heaven.

“Eliot’s always been like this,” Sophie mumbled. “We shouldn’t have expected today to be any different.”

“What do you mean?” Hardison asked, somewhat defensively.

“He’s stubborn, always has been, and self-sacrificing. Remember when we worked the job in the wrestling ring? He let himself get pummeled for the sake of the job. He put himself in a room with Moreau to protect us. We should’ve seen this coming.”

“How does this affect the plan?” Parker asked hesitantly.

“It doesn’t. We’re still gonna break him out, whether he wants us to or not. It just might be more difficult.” Nate answered.

“How’s it gonna be difficult?”

“We can’t count on Eliot to help us map out hell, or figure out where he is in it. We’ll have to do that part completely ourselves.”

“What are you suggesting?”

“Parker, I need you to make a map of what you learned today. Next time we go down, we’re gonna have to put a tracker on Eliot.”

“Will that work? I can’t say my trackers will work without an internet signal. And there probably ain’t wifi in hell.”

“We’ll see. This is gonna take some time. This isn’t gonna be a simple mission- we shouldn’t have expected it to be. We’re stealing hell, for Godsakes.”

“Well, actually-”

“It’s a metaphor, Parker.”

“Oh, okay.”

Parker moved to the living room and rolled out a chalkboard. She took the white chalk in her hand and began moving it to make the map she had in her head, one that overlapped and circled round yet seemed perfectly linear when walking down it. She ignored the biting sound the chalk made and she dragged it down the green.

Eventually, she had the map draw to the best of her ability. It was winding and confusing, and she herself could barely make sense of it, but it was what they had to track to save Eliot they would. The hard work didn’t matter.

Hardison, however, couldn’t seem to wrap his head around it at first glance.

“Look, the levels that are shaded white are lower than the blank ones. The spotted ones are two levels low. So, we walked down it like this,” she explained, tracing her finger from their entry point to the cell they met Eliot in.

“How the hell did you piece all this together?”

“Just trust me. My maps haven’t led us wrong in the past. Trust me.”

Hardison nodded, biting his bottom lip softly.

“Yeah, yeah, you’re right. I trust you.”

“Now it’s your turn. You have to make an earpiece that transmits a signal all through hell.”

“God, y’all ask so much of me. I’ve got a week, I’ll make it happen.”

“For Eliot?” Parker asked.

“For Eliot.” Hardison replied with a smirk.

///

His writs were placed back in their shackles and Eliot couldn’t breath through the blood flooding his lungs.

 _“Ah, you’re back.”_ Moreau smiled sweetly despite the holes were his teeth should be. “How are you today, Spencer? Doing well?"

“Does he look as though he is doing well?” Chapman scoffed. “He looks worse than usual. Someone ought to just put a bullet through his head, put him out of his misery. Oh, wait, didn’t _you-?”_

Chapman and Moreau both laughed then, and Eliot ignored them, focused solely on his breathing, emptying his lungs of the blood they were filled with, his body fighting desperately to breath, even though really, physically- he didn’t even exist _physically-_ it didn’t matter. He was immortal now- capable of living through whatever torture the angels chose he deserved. His human instinct was so desperate, and it was what they used to harm him.

Chapman and Moreau seemed satisfied with their humor then. Despite their perceived superiority, they were in the same bounds as Eliot, and just as awful physical states. Chapman’s stomach was a gaping hole today, organs scooped out and off somewhere different and all Moreau’s teeth ripped out of his skull. While they enjoyed torturing Eliot, their pain made limitations on the hours they could continue to mentally torture him and Eliot had never been so happy in his life- afterlife- _whatever_ \- to see people physically destroyed.

Eliot had nothing to do or look forward to outside of the monthly visits of his friends. He got used to the routine of hell- got used to the chorus of screams he’d hear ringing down the lineup. He became used to the cries and pleas of monsters like himself. He learned to become numb to it.

He was back in a camp, a prisoner of war, blood coating his teeth, a washrag and gallon of water waiting for him and refilled over, and over, until he’d release information, regardless of it’s truth, regardless of how long it would take. He was back in the camps, with hundreds of men and women, some who deserved the torture and some who didn’t, all of them suffering the same regardless of their crimes or their good deeds. It didn’t matter. All the mattered was the information between your ears and your willingness to give it up to save your life.

The only difference was that, here, in hell, there was no escape. No matter what you said, whether you spilled the information or begged, they wouldn’t stop. And here, there was no limit. They could do anything to you- rip out your organs or peel off your skin, layer by layer, with a single dull knife, fill you toe to tip with bullets- they couldn’t kill you. There was no end. Only blood and cries and chains and the lineup.

And, maybe, once a month, a visit from some friends that you didn’t deserve.

///

“Okay, okay. It took a while-”

“It’s been four days.”

“It took four days, but I built earpieces that should work throughout all of hell. We’ll have to test them, ‘course, but I think they’ll work. I haven’t failed us yet, so, it should be fine.”

“Good,” Nate said, pacing through the room. “So we have three days to plan this. We’ll bust him out- it can’t wait any longer. This is for Eliot.”

Everyone nodded, Sophie somewhat reluctantly.

“We slip the earpiece to Eliot as soon as we can. Even if he doesn’t put it in his ear and talk to us, we’ll be able to track him. I’ve printed off copies of the map for everyone. We need to start thinking of hell as this 3d maze, even if we don’t feel it as we walk.”

“And if the angels try to stop us?” Sophie asked.

Nate’s face fell and his posture slumped. “That, I don’t know. I have an idea for how to find out-but you all won’t like it.”

“What is it?” Hardison asked, hesitantly.

“We’ll have to steal an angel.”

“What for?”

“We’ll have to experiment on it.”

“How do we stop it from contacting others?”

“We make a deal. It’s life for information.”

“It’s an angel, Nate. It won’t be so corrupt as to tell it’s secrets so easily.”

“We don’t know that.”

“This is risky, Nate! We can’t be so careless with this! How would we save Eliot if we wind up in hell beside him?”

“We don’t have a choice, Sophie!”

Nate yelled and the world stopped. An angel appeared in the middle of the room- its white light blinding and it’s wing wide, stance strong and sharp blue eyes hardening.

“I know how to fix this.”  
///  
  
Time stopped existing- literally. The birds outside the windows froze midair air and the wind stopped blowing beneath their wings. The angel stood, stoic and silent, awaiting a response.  
  
“How can you fix this?” Hardison asked while Parker demanded, “Why would you help us?”  
  
“Heaven has become corrupt, our god become selfish and our angels mere drones beneath him. Their hands are bloody. Heaven was never supposed to be a place of blood. Hell was never supposed to be behind our gates.”  
  
“...what?”  
  
“God was no longer satisfied merely letting the devil punish sinners. He took the job upon himself and made the rules stricter without warning the people of Earth. He smites angels who even question him. That’s why I’m having we resort to this.”  
  
“This?”  
  
“Begging for help from humans. This situation is unprecedented. The divine can usually govern themselves- but the corruption has become too strong for us to handle. Most of my brothers have become evil just as our god has and it both disgusts and terrifies me. Which is why,” the angel spoke, “I am going to help you.”  
  
“How do you plan to do that?”  
  
“An angel is to guard you when you travel to hell. I will offer to be that angel. When we go down, I will give you a blade that should defend you against angels. You’ll have to use it against me and then flee- I won’t report your escape for some time while you grab your friend. Once that is done, using his story as testimony, we can challenge god's morality.”  
  
“Geez,” Hardison mumbled. “And after we challenge him, then what?”  
  
“I don’t know,” the angel admitted. “It has never been done before.”  
  
“Well, there’s a first time for everything,” Nate mumbled. “Let’s steal us an Eliot.”  
  
“That’ll be, objectively, easier than stealing hell.”  
  
“What?” The angel asked.  
  
“Eh, just don’t question it.”  
  
///  
  
Three days passed and the angel, who had said its name to be Ekaziah, appeared in Nate’s apartment out of thin air.  
  
“If you begin down this path, there is no turning back. Should we fail, the consequences are likely to be brutal and eternal. You understand?”  
  
They all nodded, no hesitation. The angel handed a blade off to Nate.  
  
“You are doing the right thing,” it promised. “You maps and earpieces will function. The only thing that can stop you now is god himself. You understand?”  
  
Nate nodded.  
  
And then, the angel took them to hell.  
  
///  
  
Anxiety was like a heavy cloud on all of them, shrouding their vision and better senses. The risk had never been so high- the prize so worth fighting for.  
  
They _had_ to win. It wasn’t an option.  
  
They walked through the line up, passing screaming men and women of all ages- spitting and crying and tearing at their chains. A chill ran down Hardison’s spine when he thought of Eliot so desperate- so _wild_ .  
  
The angel slowed its speed.  
  
“We’re almost to him. You need to take me out, find him, and escape. You know how to go, yeah?”  
  
“Just as you taught us,” Sophie replied.  
  
“Good. Do it, then.”  
  
It braced itself, and Nate slammed the blade through its abdomen.  
  
///  
  
The smell of bile was strong as that of sulfur, the rush of his beating heart loud as the screams in his ears.  
  
The line up had gone wild and Eliot didn’t understand why. All he knew was that Moreau and Chapman were wild at his sides, tearing at their chains and reaching towards him with crawled, open hands like they wanted to rip him apart and eat him alive.  
  
He could hardly see what was happening through the blood in his eyes and his sweat soaked hair plastered to his forehead.  
  
His pulse was racing under his skin and he was panicking. For the first time in so long, he felt real fear- and he didn’t know why because the line was always _loud_ and _bloody_ and _screaming_ so _why-_  
  
His team appeared before him.  
  
Nate, Sophie, Hardison, Parker-  
  
Parker’s wide, tear-filled eyes bore into his. Parker’s wide, tear-filled eyes, fluttering between Eliot and the two men bound at his sides. Nate gave a look of disgust to Moreau, and Eliot saw Hardison’s hands go clammy and Sophie’s become hungry to ring themselves around Moreau’s pretty neck.  
  
Nate swung his hand wide and Eliot felt his body drop- freeing his shoulders from the stress of holding him inches off the ground. He saw the blade in Nate’s hands as he used it to start sawing off the cuffs binding his wrists.  
  
_What did I do to deserve them?_  
  
Eliot wondered silently. Before he knew it, Parker had a death grip on his wrist and they were running. To where, he didn’t know, and she didn’t seem to either.  
  
“Nate! Now is a good time to-“  
  
“I’m trying!”  
  
Over all of their voices he could hear Moreau screaming.  
  
_“I’ll hunt you down Spencer! I’ll skin you alive! I’ll tear you apart from the inside out!”_  
  
He tried his best to block out the voice but he’d become accustomed to hearing Moreau and Chapman’s sneers over the last couple months- years? He didn’t know and had stopped counting.  
  
“Parker! Where to next?” Nate shouted.  
  
“We’ll take a right and there will be a door on the left!”  
  
Eliot noticed for the first time that Parker was running with her eyes closed- tracing a map in her mind.  
  
“Here, take this,” Hardison said, appearing at his side and pushing an earbud in his hand. “Ekazaiah will be back online any time now.”  
  
Eliot didn’t know what was happening- he just kept running as Parker dragged him, wondering where they were going and who would follow them and why-  
  
And suddenly, they ran through a door and came into a whole new world. One that was painted white and fluffy and there were hoards of beautiful people with bright shining wings and golden necklaces and golden gates and he wondered, silently, if they were on Parker’s list of treasured objects she wanted in her possession.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! This story will be continued with, at the least, one more part. I'm sorry for taking so long to update! Comments and kudos are always appreciated, and I love to hear your ideas about what will come next!
> 
> Find me on Tumblr at [ EducationalAdmiral! ](https://educationaladmiral.tumblr.com/)


End file.
